Forum Thread

Sign Ups

September 26th, 2003. 9:37 pm.
The SF Giants are in the middle of clobbering the rival LA Dodgers 10-1. The roars of over 40,000 people all chanting "Beat LA" can be heard throughout the city. As fans begin to exit the stadium, a brawl breaks out in the bleacher seats. Security is seen rushing in that direction to no avail. Strangely, as the crowd of people fighting begins to grow, bystanders who begin to run away are only chased down by attackers. More people in the crowd decide to start leaving the game as the fight escalates and as people begin leaving in droves, the stairs begin to clog up. A man is heard yelling above the rest causing some to look towards him to only see him tackled down by a security guard who begins biting the man's throat. Others are soon tackled as well and begin to be mauled to death by the attacking parties causing more chaos and bloodshed.

Those who manage to escape to the streets witness the horrors of what has become the China Basin. Hordes chase after pedestrians and begin ripping away at their flesh before moving onto their next victims. Gunfire can be heard from nearby law enforcement trying to maintain order, but soon the gunfire ceases and is replaced by the screams of civilians and monsters alike.

By sunrise of September 27th, 2003, mass chaos had erupted within the city. Whole buildings are on fire, the streets are paved with blood and bodies, and the sounds of the usual angry driver have been replaced by the roars of horrific creatures. San Francisco has been lost. Those who survived the night must learn to endure and survive. The world will never be the same…


The Day Before



Day 7234
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I miss you my love... I wish you got so see what we have built here

6.16.99
PUCC Campus

Graduation Day

The air is crisp, rays from the rising sun bearing down from the cosmos, bringing a warmth a bit stronger than the small town was used to. The summer was looking to be record setting, and the whole town was ready. I look out at the crowd around me, peers and teachers lining the fold-out plastic chairs. Misty sits next to me, our fingers interlaced as we listen to the headmaster speak. It’s the day we’ve been working for, years of our lives finally over as we start our new journey together.

7.12.03
Home, Portage, Utah

I gaze upon the space next to me, my eyes filling with the shine of the morning light reflecting off of Misty, my everything, my reason for all that I do. Last night was one of joy and excitement, our family now set to become one of three, and I cannot wait. To be able to look into the eyes of my child, to see Misty holding her and smiling with me, it’s all I could ever ask for.

9.20.03

5 years since I met this beautiful woman, my soon to be wife. The mood was perfect tonight, the music just right, the food perfect, and the spirits could not have been higher. The tears of joy that threatened to fall as I heard an excited, “yes,” made every day to get here worth it. There is still a lot to do, places to go and things to plan, but that is for tomorrow. If not then, then we do it another day. All that matters is that we are together, and our child will be happy. But for now, if only just for tonight, we dance.

7.17.22
Somewhere in the western United States

The sun doesn’t rise the same. Sometimes, I don’t even know that it does till it’s night.

September 2003.

The radio's just static now—they always cut off their broadcasts at around nine. Max has come over, though. His mother assured mine she'd be willing to let him stay the night.

There's some leftover cake on the table from a party Rusty's dad held a day ago, crayon drawings done by Rusty, marked with his age at the bottom right corners.

The clock ticks, and Rusty's gaze moves over toward it while he and Max tinker with Legos. It's somewhere around 10 pm. Max can barely read the clock, much less press the two pieces together the way he wants them to fit. It was a perfect, quiet night until their serenity was interrupted by a shriek that cut through the air like a blade through silk, swift and sudden. Made their hair stand on its ends and sent shivers through their bones.

Rusty's mother dashes into the room and urges them to hide in the closet, panicked. The two children—wide eyed and curious—shrug it off and step inside, cramped between folded clothes and ironed suits, chattering about what sort of events are occurring over at their neighbor's apartment. They speculate about horror movies, wild dogs, hell, even vampires.

They have no idea today might be the last day they have the freedom to exercise their naivete.

August 2016.

Max has been acting weird lately. Really weird. I hope he's alright, his mood's been swinging around like a wrecking ball all day. He's been coughing violently. Oh, God, he must be infected. That's got to be it.

The wind kicks up dust along the road as the two walk along the bridge, whistling through the crevices of the cracked pavement.

Rusty's hands—slick with sweat—tremble as his fingers grip the handle of his baseball bat. His heart's pounding. He knows it; he's sure that Max is infected, he's so, so sure. He swears by it. I have to do it. He tells himself. He's sure there are people who took action too late. Didn't react fast enough. His hands twitch.

The bat is raised. It glistens as it catches the light of the sun beaming off it.

September 27th, 2003 - 0020

As the crisp fall wind blew throughout the trees, unsuspecting civilians were tucked away in their beds. At exactly 00:20, the phone rang in the downstairs of the Rivers residence. The ring of the phone awoke Mr. Rivers from his sleep and he noticed his wife was still not home. This, however, was not unusual. She was a "highly valuable member of the factory staff" as she had said it so many times. As the phone continued to ring out, Mr. Rivers got out of his bed and went downstairs to answer. But the further he walked downstairs, the brighter the room got. To his horror, out of the window, he could see distant flames engulfing the factory where his wife worked. As he ran outside in horror, a tan and brown pickup truck drove up on his lawn and came to a screeching hault, just narrowly missing him. Mrs. Rivers rolled down the window and yelled "GET IN NOW!" Without hesitation, he jumped into the front seat of his wifes truck and she immediately hit the gas.

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October 25th, 2003. 1:26 pm
TW: slight violence and mention of death-
In mere months, a sickness had seemed to spread across the country. Fear consumed those who heard about the spreading massacres that started in San Francisco. Strangers, who would once chat politely with one another in passing now cast suspicious glares at eachother. Families became inseparable, the thought of leaving them to do the regular tedious tasks of normal life felt like walking out into a battle field.

Mia, Caleb and Aspen spent more time together than ever. They spent their days gathered in the safety of their coffee shop before spending their nights huddled in Mia's apartment- since she had the largest apartment and they no longer wanted to live alone. Like most small businesses, they rarely were open for service. After hearing horror stories of the spreading massacres, they had decided to board up their windows and add extra locks to their doors. Nearby, cops and paranoid members of their community worked overtime trying to roam the streets, keeping an eye out for unusual behavior. A hushed tension seemed to hang in the air. Nobody felt truly safe.

The three gathered in the tiny sitting area of their coffee shop, playing with cards wordlessly. They all had a silent agreement to spend their days simply listening. Like any other day, it was quiet, other than the occasional shouting. They all tried to not worry. Surly they would find a cure soon, a cure for whatever this was. Then the murders would end.

A blood curling scream rose from within the air. Making all three snap up and stare at the boarded cracks within the window. Slowly, they all rose as the sounds of screams, gunfire, and shouting seemed to intensify. The three of them held eachother as minutes pass without an end, tears streaming down their faces as the sounds seemed to get closer.

They all screamed as a body slammed into the window. Glass shatters against the boards, and while their barricade held strong, it seemed to creak under the person's bodyweight. Again, the body slams against it and an inhuman shriek follows. The three realize it quickly- the barricade is not going to hold.

Caleb steadily moves ahead of them, a harsh anger in his eyes that Aspen has never witnessed. He grabs the hammer that they had used to set up the barricade. He raises an arm up as the body continues to slam into the barricade until a board finally snaps and a hand shoots through the barricade. A scream fires out of Caleb as he slams the hammer down onto the arm. The arm quickly retreats, giving Caleb a moment to see through the busted barricade before two arms appear in it's place. Whatever Caleb saw causes him to step back startled. He stands still, suddenly tense. He ignores their questions for a moment before he turns, smiling at them. "You guys trust me right?" He asks.

"Take the keys, go to the car and leave this city. You should be safe taking the back way if you hurry" he explains. He ignores their demands for an answer. "I will be right behind you" he says calmly. He laughs and it almost looks like a tear has fallen down his face. But he turns away before they could confirm. "I love you two, I'm not going to let you fight this alone. I'm just giving you a head start." Another board breaks as two people furiously kick at the barricade, snapping their attention away. "GO!" He screams. The two take off, but they don't make it far when a third board snaps followed by Caleb's horrified and pained scream. Mia nearly shoves Aspen out the backdoor before slamming it shut. She practically drags Aspen away from the sight.

Caleb was Aspen's childhood friend. Mia had joined the group later. She was a few years older than the two of them. She had always been stronger, sharper, braver. It shows now, amongst the chaos, she manages to shake it off and think on her feet. "We have to go back we have to-!" Aspen is cut short by Mia, who roughly grabs Aspen's shoulders, her gaze serious.

"I know! I know!" Mia shouts. "I know how you feel, but we have to-" she winces, swallowing a sob. "We can't! We have to keep going, I'm sorry Aspen!" She shouts over the sounds of violence. Somehow, Aspen's legs comply, keeping up with Mia's pace as the two race towards their shared vehicle. Screams sound from all around them. But to their relief, the car is in sight. Aspen gets in the driver seat, and Mia races to the passenger seat, but she doesn't make it halfway before suddenly freezing.

"Stop!" A voice screams out. It was a man, and he was holding onto a large gun. Aspen recognizes him, realizing he was the kind man who always surprised his wife with a fresh pastry made by Caleb. Now, he was one of the paranoid, constantly looking for enemies that weren't there. His gaze was far from kind. He glares at the two. "Give me the car, now!" He demands.

"We can all escape together, just calm down" Mia replies with a surprising amount of ease. But the man doesn't listen. He shakes his head and with a furious roar he points the weapon towards Aspen, which makes Mia visibly tense. But a heartbeat later, she relaxes. "Aspen" she says gently. "Aspen, I am sorry to ask you to do this. But please, do one thing for me" she glances towards Aspen and smiles. "Go on without me, please, don't die!" She shouts before lounging towards the man. Grabbing for the gun as he turns towards Mia and fires.

It takes her a moment to realize what just happened, to get herself to move. It wasn't until the man, Mia's murderer, starts to move towards the drivers side door, gun in hand, that finally makes her move. She quickly reverses the car. Driving off as bullets pelt the vehicle. She had managed to just barley escape. The massacre was quickly building behind her, her two loved ones. Now gone. Why didn't I do more? What if they're still alive? What if-

Present day:
"What if? What if?" Aspen mumbles gently as tears stream down her face. It had been years since she had thought about that day. But it still hurt, as if it had happened yesterday. Whispers of safety had driven her towards what many consider a safe haven, but without them, she could never truly feel at home. What came about their families? They all lived in Washington before moving to Colorado. Were they safe? Lowering her head onto her arms, Aspen allows herself to cry.

Many years had passed and these wounds refused to heal, and they likely never would.

Present Day - 0800

writes letters to family as if theyre still alive I had hoped both you and your brother would make it past all this. I hoped that one day you both could've experienced death as if it were like you passed out on the couch during a slumber party with friends. That you could hear the laughter that was infectious from room to room as you quietly fell asleep, the feeling of peace and knowing everyone was happy. Neither of you deserve the deaths you received, one day I will join you once more and explain everything. Maybe by then you're older and understand more. Though it's been some time, it hasn't been long enough. starts getting angry and tearing up while writing My self hatred is so deep that I fear I'll lunge at the man staring back at me as I see my own reflection; shattering any glass in my path or taking the closest thing to me and insert the pain that I feel emotionally into my body and slowly kill the man that took away his entire livelihood and lifes enrichment. throws book and pencil across the room and starts bawling out and shaking

November 1st, 2003 — 6:04 am
The apartment was quiet, and so was the little girl. Mama and Da had left with a bag and strange looks on their faces. Da had rested against the wall tapping his left foot as he peered through a gap between the two lacy curtains beside the door. Mama had crouched down gave the little girl a smile and a kiss. She had assured her not to worry; that she’d be home soon. She told her not the leave the apartment. And not to make a sound.

That was October 29th. The little girl had remembered because it was thirteen days after Mama’s birthday, when she had made a cheerio necklace for her. She even arranged them in order of colour, strung out on a piece of twine. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink. Two of each.

But Mama and Da had not come home.

The little girl didn’t worry. Mama told her not to, so she didn’t and kept herself busy with paper airplanes that had now littered the room and trying to find Da’s step ladder so she could reach the cookie jar tucked on the highest shelf.

That’s when the door handle shook. The little girl’s eyes darted to the door and her heartbeat quickened. She only dropped to the kitchen floor and pressed her small body against the counter when the slab of wood opened with a loud creak.

“Hello?” A voice murmured softly. It was a kind sort of voice. Like Mama’s. But it wasn’t Mama.

“No one’s ‘ere, Steph.” That voice was different. Gruff and heavy with a lazy Texan drawl. “Family woulda moved East like the rest of ‘em. That or they’re dead. Abandoned stuff, see? Just grab whatcha want and let’s go.”

The girls lips were clamped shut, closing her eyes to hide the tears as two sets of footsteps trekked towards Mama and Da’s room. And her own.

Mama promised she’d come home. They both promised.

A light-footed sound neared her and her heart quickened. When the little girl opened her eyes, she met cool grey. The colour of steel. A freckled face was tilted to the side, browns drawn close together, short red hair just spilling over her shoulders.

“Nick?” She said, keeping her eyes on the girl.

“Steph, there’s so much good stuff in ‘ere. You should see the jewellery. Think it’s real silver.” The man replied from the other room.

“Nick, I think you should see something…” The woman tried again.

“Yeah, inna minute. Damn, they had ammo—”

“Nick!” Her voice raised.

“What Stephanie?” The gruff voice snapped quietly, heavy boots quickly striding across to the kitchen. “I swear, sister, if this is another one of your tricks…” The words died in his throat as his eyes, matching to the woman’s, fell on the trembling little girl. He pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed quietly, turning around. “Steph…”

But the woman didn’t spare him a glance, crouching down with a small smile. It was careful. She reached out a cold hand to her hair, tucking a long blond strand behind her ear. “Heya, kid.” Another tentative smile. “I’m Steph. And that’s my big brother, Nick. We don’t bite, I promise.” A strained chuckle passed her lips before she paused. “Where’s your parents?”

A beat of silence followed. Then two.

The girl squeaked out a reply, too shaky to understand, so the woman—Steph—tried again. “How about your name, kiddo?”

The girl spoke with more courage this time. “Leto.”


Present Day — 11:17 am
Leto flips a throwing knife over in her left hand. Once, twice, three times— crap.

The narrow blade nicks a slice in her palm, a small line of red blossoming on her palm. She frowns lightly at it and wipes the blood on the left side of her carogs, the leg drawn against her chest as she stares out at the empty town. A bit risky, perching atop the abandoned mall, one leg hanging over the edge, but the drop down wasn’t that far. She’d roll an ankle, at worst, likely scrape her knees and hands, further wearing the dirty fabric covered in sweat, grime and blood.

It wasn’t all bad; the town hadn’t been completely raided yet. A store had a handful of tanks and socks and—thank the stars—shoes behind the counter. A little wide around the back of the heel, but decent enough. Her trainers were nearly torn apart and blisters were common and begrudgingly painful. She’d stocked up on the essentials too. Another first aid kit, new—well, unused—water bottle, dried mango, nuts and even an energy bar. Stuff she’s absolutely sick of. But fuel is fuel and the alternative is starvation, so she puts up with it.

Leto pauses, narrowing dark eyes as she scans the skyline of the town. Somewhere in the north of California, a dingy little place where she swears she saw a tumbleweed cross her path when she had arrived just days ago. She saw the usual: boarded up windows, power lines down, locked doors. Most cars were gone, although by the lack of parking lots, there were never many in the first place. Another day or two and she would leave.

She still wonders where Nick and Stephanie are from time to time. Hoping they’re both okay, how they’re doing. Wondering if Nick still sleeps with his heavy boots on at night, or if Steph still chastises her brother for eating with his mouth open. Silly little things. It had only been five months since a loud argument and a tense parting. She wanted to go back home, see if she could find the remains of her parents. Though when she pictures her mother and father’s faces… there’s not much. It’s blurry and misshapen. To be fair, twenty-two years can alter the memories of a person.

From time to time—more often than not, now that she thinks about it—she still wonders why she ever wanted to return to Newport in the first place. She was much safer with Nick and Steph. Better as a three than one. Besides, the company was comforting. Now she just drowns in her own thoughts. She even caught herself talking to a mangy cat a few weeks ago before it unfortunately had to go. How on Earth it was alive was beyond Leto.

Just two more days, She thinks, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, the heat of the sun warming her skin. Then I’m outta here. Damn, if society ever functions again and I go for a checkup at the hospital, I’ll definitely be diseased. Or have skin cancer from this bloody sun and no stupid sunblock. Probably both.

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